by T. J. Klune
Noah is still our sweet, sensitive boy with a heart of gold. He tends to be a little nervous at times, and shy. His mouth runs away with him before he has a chance to think of what he actually wants to say, but he’s endearing, even when he fidgets. It’s impossible for him to stand still at any given moment. Even now, his finger is tapping against his leg, foot bouncing just a little.
They’re also staring at us with such judgment that I can’t help but snort at them.
“Old people can get funky too,” Bear says.
They both groan in unison.
“Jesus, Papa,” Lily says. “You are so lame.”
“So lame,” Noah says, because he agrees with whatever Lily says. He didn’t have the easiest time when he was younger. Given that he was small and soft-spoken, it made him an easy target for bullies that thought he’d be a pushover, especially for a few months when they were both in fifth grade. What they didn’t expect was to have to deal with our fiery daughter, who always found a way to protect him, even when their friends and interests led them in separate directions. They drifted a little from each other for a while, but somehow, they always found one another again. They were a team, and no one fucked with Noah Thompson, not when Lily was involved.
Bear, of course, had threatened to destroy anyone who ever dreamed of touching his kids. I remember the day the parents of the instigators had all met in the principal’s office, how they had come in with chips on their shoulders, sure their precious little shits could do no wrong, but had left practically quaking in fear at the sight of my husband. I’d stood behind him, arms across my chest, scowling at each of them in turn, but Bear? Bear had lit into them, listing off each encounter with precision, providing signed documents from kids and teachers who’d witnessed kids picking on Noah for being nothing more than himself.
People didn’t really pick on Noah much after that.
And that was good, because I was pretty sure Bear had already plotted out how to get away with murder. I couldn’t say that with a hundred percent accuracy, but I wouldn’t put it past him.
“We’re lame,” I tell Bear.
“So lame,” he says mockingly as he kisses me again, much to the disgust of the twins.
“Did you hear that Mikey’s parents got divorced?” Lily asks Noah. “He’s so lucky.”
Noah squints at her, then looks at us, a frown on his face. “You guys can’t get divorced. I don’t think I’d like that very much.”
“Lily,” Bear scolds. “Stop upsetting your brother.”
“I’m not upsetting him! I merely stated a fact, and he drew his own conclusions from it.”
“We’re not getting divorced,” I say to Noah. “Bear wouldn’t know what to do without me.”
Bear shoves me away. “Yeah, yeah. Laugh it up. I’d do just fine. Probably. Mostly. I’d last at least a week before I’d let you come crawling back.”
“Oh god,” Lily moans. “Dad’s got that sappy look on his face again.”
“That means he loves Papa,” Noah says, grinning at me.
“That it does,” I agree.
“Who loves Papa?” a smaller voice asks before he pushes his way between Lily and Noah, gazing up with interest at everyone in the room.
Caleb Thompson. Our little fighter.
Dom had found him first in a shithole of a hovel outside of Seafare. There’d been a call to do a welfare check on a kid who hadn’t been to school in over a week. Dom had already been in the neighborhood and had stopped by, even though it hadn’t exactly been in his job description anymore as a detective.
Caleb’s parents had both overdosed on heroin. The mother was dead, having choked to death on her own vomit. The father had had a heart attack and was barely hanging on. Caleb was in a closet, hugging a dirty stuffed bear. He told Dom that he’d run out of crackers, even though he’d tried to save as many as he could as he didn’t know when his mom and dad would wake up.
His fifth birthday had been three days earlier.
Otter and I were still registered as foster parents.
Dom called us later that day, asking if we could meet with him at the station.
We were led to an interrogation room where we found them both, Caleb in his arms, face hidden in the big man’s neck, stuffed bear clutched against his chest. He was a tiny thing, looking like he needed to be fed immediately. He had pale skin and dirty blonde hair. His eyes were the brightest green but looked dulled in the harsh light overhead.
“I need you,” Dom had told us, looking a little haunted. “I need you to help me.”
Caleb’s father had died the next day.
They looked for family. They were required to, of course. And, as often happened in cases like this, they found nothing.
Caleb came to stay with us at the Green Monstrosity.
And he never left.
It took a long time, but now, five years later, he was ours just as much as Lily and Noah were. They’d taken to him quickly, circling around him, holding him close. He’d been wary of the both of them at first, but that had passed sooner than we’d thought. Lily had given him piggyback rides. Noah had made him cookies. He loved them completely.
It’d taken him longer to warm up to Bear and me, but when he was eight, he’d become a Thompson and looked up at us and asked in that quiet voice of his if he could call us Daddy and Papa like Lily and Noah did.
“Yes,” Bear had told him, voice cracking. “We’d like that very much.”
Once we decided we wanted to keep him as our own (Dom saying that he knew from the start we’d never let Caleb go once we saw him), we realized we wouldn’t have enough room for three growing kids, especially if they didn’t share a bedroom.
So we sold the Green Monstrosity and moved to a house a few streets over that had more room for all of us.
It was… harder than we thought it would be. Leaving that house. The family that had bought it from us seemed to love it as much as we had (“Look at that color! It’s like getting punched in the face with rotten limes!”), but turning over the keys to someone else felt like the end of a life I never expected to have.
Bear had made fun of me for being overly sentimental.
I got my revenge by telling him that the Green Monstrosity was the place where I figured out I wanted to spend the rest of my life with him.
He’d gaped at me.
Then promptly burst into tears, calling me an asshole who didn’t play fair.
The new house was a normal house, red brick on the outside and plain white walls on the inside. We’d made it our own, of course, settling in and filling its corners with the bits and pieces of our lives. Lily and Noah had immediately claimed their rooms the day we’d gotten the keys. Caleb had moved a little more slowly, walking around, trailing his hands along the walls. We’d followed him around, waiting for the verdict. Finally he’d looked up at both of us and smiled, saying, “It’s very nice. Thank you.”
We knew then that everything was going to be okay.
It was a long road, but now he was healthy and whole, and even though we’d never seriously planned on having any more after Lily and Noah, he made me feel more complete than I’d ever felt before.
He belonged. Like he was made for us.
“Everyone loves Papa,” Bear says gleefully. “Because I’m the most lovable—”
“Neurotic,” Lily coughs.
“—lovable person in the room,” Bear finishes with a glare. “Now. I have to go so I can make it on time to yell at JJ because apparently my daughter is stupid enough to think we wouldn’t hear back about what she asked him for.”
Lily pales. “That rat bastard.”
“Don’t talk like that,” Caleb says, ever the little purist. “It’s not nice.”
But while I’m interested in Lily’s reaction, my gaze drifts over to Noah, who has started to fidget even more than usual.
Huh. Maybe Lily wasn’t the only culprit involved.
He sees me staring at him and squeaks a little before l
ooking away.
Interesting.
Bear hasn’t seen it, because he’s grabbing his wallet and keys off the counter. He glances down at his phone before he looks back up at me. “You have the bail money in case I accidentally drop your nephew off a cliff?”
“Yes, dear,” I say dryly. “Anything for you.”
“Damn right,” he mutters before he kisses me again.
All three of our kids gag.
He walks up to them, leaning down and kissing Noah on the forehead, somehow missing the way Noah’s gaze darts away. He moves on to Caleb, who reaches up and demands a hug. Lily is last. “We’ll talk about this more later,” he tells her quietly. “You’re not in trouble, but I just need to keep you safe, okay?”
She shrugs.
“Okay,” he says, because he can see right through her act. He kisses her cheek. “You guys have fun at your lunch with Dad. I’ll see you when I get home.”
He glances back at me, winks, and leaves.
WE’RE AT a diner, table stacked in front of us with greasy food that would make Ty’s head explode, when the truth accidentally comes out. I don’t even have to push at it, which makes it all that much sweeter. Being a parent is amazing when you can actively see the guilt working its way through your kids, knowing it’s only a matter of time before someone breaks and spills everything.
What I’m not expecting is the reasons behind it.
I’m dragging a french fry through the ketchup on my plate, about to remind Caleb that yes, napkins are a thing that have been invented and he doesn’t need to try and stick his entire face in his milkshake glass, when Noah says, “Um. Dad?”
I look up at him.
He and Lily are sitting ramrod straight, side by side across the table. They never quite got to the point of Bear’s freaky twin language, but they do seem to share a brain most of the time. We’ve done our best to give them the best lives we could, and while we’ve made mistakes, I like to think we’ve got some pretty levelheaded kids. They tend to feed off each other every now and then, with Lily usually playing the role of the instigator, but for the most part, they’re good kids, the both of them. They do well in school. They’ve got good friends. Lily’s stunning, though she really couldn’t give two shits about looks. Noah’s handsome in a gangly, still-growing-into-his-limbs sort of way.
I pick up my napkin and wipe it across my mouth, sitting back against the booth, and wait.
Lily and Noah glance at each other, having a silent conversation solely with their eyebrows, something Bear and Ty have perfected over the years. It looks like Lily’s arguing against something, and somehow, Noah seems to be resisting.
This should be good.
Lily’s shoulders slump.
Noah’s eyes are a little wide as he turns back to me.
I arch an eyebrow at the both of them.
Caleb has chocolate ice cream on his forehead.
“Okay,” Noah says. “So. Um. I need to… tell you. Something.”
I nod slowly.
“The. Um. Weed. Thing?”
“The weed thing,” I say blandly, like I don’t have a care in the world. I’ve got this dad thing locked down.
“Okay. So. Um. You see, Lily wasn’t the one who wanted it. It was. Sort of. For me?”
That… is actually surprising. Somehow, I’m able to keep the shock off my face. “Really.”
He nods, throat clicking as he swallows. “Yes, sir.”
“You wanted to get marijuana from JJ.”
“Yes, sir.”
“So you could smoke it.”
“Um. Yes?”
“You don’t sound sure.”
His hands fidget on the table. “I’m sure.”
Lily says, “I told him I could—” but I hold up my hand, cutting her off. She doesn’t look too happy about that but doesn’t say another word.
“And why did you want to smoke weed?” I ask Noah, completely sure Bear is going to flip his lid when he finds this out. That our sweet, innocent little Noah of all people seems to have concocted a plan to get his sister to ask JJ for pot. It was really rather devious. I’m almost impressed by it. But you shouldn’t show your kids you’re almost proud of them when they tried to buy drugs. Bear learned that from the internet.
“Because… it… looks cool?”
“It looks cool,” I repeat flatly.
“Yes?”
“Are you asking me or telling me?”
He’s looking a little frantic now, and I know I shouldn’t push this too much further. He hasn’t had a panic attack in a long time, and I want to keep it that way. “I don’t… know?”
“Okay,” I say with a shrug. “Caleb, napkins are our friends.”
Caleb grins at me. “I’ve got ice cream on my eyebrows.”
I snort as I dab my napkin in my water glass and hand it over to him so he can clean himself up.
“That’s it?” Noah asks, sounding incredulous.
No, that’s not it, because I’m pretty sure there’s more, but I’m not going to push it. “That’s it.”
Lily and he have another eyebrow conversation, and just when I’m about to resume eating, Lily sighs and says, “You might as well tell him now. I mean, they’re going to find out eventually.”
Bingo.
And I’m also a little worried now.
Noah looks even more nervous than before, searching my face for something. But then he steels his shoulders, and there’s a stubborn set to his jaw that I can’t help but be proud of. People underestimate Noah Thompson. They shouldn’t.
I don’t even have to look under the table to know Lily’s got a tight grip on his hand. It’s just how they are.
“It was for a boy,” my son blurts out.
Yeah, that’s not what I had expected to hear today.
He looks stunned, like he’s surprised at his own words. He opens his mouth, trying to speak again, but no sound comes out. He closes it again.
“A boy,” I say, struggling to keep the smile off my face, because he’s legitimately scared for reasons I don’t quite understand. “Like, he wanted you to get it for him?”
He snaps his head from side to side so quickly, it looks painful.
“Is he pressuring you for it?”
Another no.
Oh, kid.
Even Caleb is watching his brother with interest, milkshake forgotten.
“Do you go to school with this boy?” I ask.
Noah starts to shake his head but then seems to change his mind and nods instead.
“Would I happen to know this boy?”
Noah glances at his sister, who smiles at him encouragingly. “Yeah,” he croaks out when he looks back at me.
“Hmm,” I say, pretending to think. “Oh! Would this boy happen to be Ethan?”
His eyes bulge just a little at that.
Yeah. Got you.
Ethan Lundgren. The kid a year above Lily and Noah. Popular and handsome and seemingly playing the role of the stereotypical jock who had one day last year followed Noah home with a dreamy look on his face, much to Noah’s bewilderment, and had never really left.
It wasn’t that hard to spot the fact that Ethan had a crush on my son.
And, as Bear pointed out, it seemed to be a mutual thing, though we were pretty sure neither had done a damn thing about it.
I was proud of Bear that day. He hadn’t freaked out in the slightest.
I had. A little.
Bear wouldn’t let me buy a gun to threaten Ethan with.
“So, Ethan,” I say, already knowing Bear’s going to be pissed that he wasn’t here for this. “He didn’t ask you for it, he didn’t pressure you for it—and wow, it sounds like we’re talking about something else.”
“Dad,” Noah hisses.
“Whoa,” Lily breathes. “That was awesome.”
“We’re talking about drugs,” I say rather gleefully. “Of course we’re only talking about drugs. Now, it does beg the question why you’d be asking your
sister to ask JJ for weed if Ethan didn’t want you to get it or pressure you into doing so. So, I suppose that’s where we’re at now.”
“What are we talking about?” Caleb asks.
“Noah’s crush on Ethan,” I tell Caleb. “And trying to get drugs to impress him.”
Noah squeaks.
Lily chokes.
Caleb rolls his eyes. “Everyone knows that. That’s boring.”
Noah’s starting to tremble, and I think we’re almost at the point of too much. So I reach across the table and place my hand on top of his. His skin is clammy and his hands are shaking, but when I ask that he look at me, he does.
“We’ve known,” I tell him quietly. “Your dad and I have known for a long time about you, kiddo. And we’d be hypocrites if we were upset by it. The thing is, we’re not. We could never be upset with you for something like this. We don’t care if you’re gay or straight or somewhere in between. This isn’t about that. The only thing that matters to us is if you’re happy. And I can tell you right now that you don’t need to do anything like this to impress Ethan. Trust me on that one. You’ve already got him wrapped around your finger.”
“In between,” Noah manages to say, his eyes wet.
“Pardon?”
“I think I’m in between.” He coughs, clearing his throat. “Like, maybe both.”
“Okay,” I say, shrugging easily. “Bisexual, then. Or, if you’re not ready for a label or if that doesn’t feel like the right one, then that’s okay too. You do you, Noah.”
“Papa knows?” Lily asks, voice trembling.
“Yes. He does. He figured it out before I did.”
“And you’re not mad?”
I shake my head. “No. We’re not mad. Not about that. The weed thing, though. That’s another story.”
Lily laughs shakily before she punches her brother on the arm. “I told you they’d be chill about it!”
“Ow,” Noah says, and no one mentions it when he wipes his eyes. “You don’t have to hit me.”
“I do when you spent forever angsting over it. You know Daddy likes hippies.”
“That’s pretty much true,” I agree.
“And they’re married, in case you couldn’t tell.” She rolls her eyes. “They’re not going to disown you, you idiot. Now maybe you can finally ask Ethan out on a date and—”